


They Don't Pair Skate

by RedChucks



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Coming Out, Dancing, Friends heading somewhere more, Friendship, Gay Otabek Altin, Gay Yuri Plisetsky, Gen, Homophobia in Sport, Implied homophobia, M/M, Otabek being a good friend, Post canon, Swearing, Yuri aged 17, Yuri swearing because he's Yuri, being proud of being gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27036517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedChucks/pseuds/RedChucks
Summary: 'They don’t pair skate. They most definitely do not, ever, on the ice, do anything that could be considered pair skating. Yuri is very vocal about this and Otabek always agrees. He knows what is at stake for them both. They aren’t like Victor and Katsuki. They aren’t men at the end of their competitive careers, going out on a high, famous and beloved and celebrated, like Victor and Katsuki are. They are still young, the skating world doesn’t quite trust them yet, doesn’t know them, not the way it knows Victor. Victor has long been able to get away with things that no other figure skater could - he is an angel above reproach - and Katsuki Yuuri, as his protege, has become the sport’s darling. They can do things like a surprise pair skating routine at the Grand Prix Final. Otabek and Yuri are not Victor and Katsuki. They don’t pair skate.'Otabek wants to be a good friend, to be there for Yuri through the ups and downs of life. He wants his friend to feel safe, and to know his worth. He wants Yuri to be proud of who he is, and he wants him to have some fun during their down time between seasons. This is a story of how they learned to do just that.Now with link to art!
Relationships: Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 10
Kudos: 76





	They Don't Pair Skate

**Author's Note:**

> Update: I think I managed to link to my picture! Yay!
> 
> I did draw an accompanying picture for this fic but as I am a Luddite I can't figure out how to make it willing sit beneath the words.  
> It's on my Tumblr, I shall attempt to link to it but like I said: Luddite. Thank you for reading.

They don’t pair skate. They most definitely do not, ever, on the ice, do anything that could be considered pair skating. Yuri is very vocal about this and Otabek always agrees. He knows what is at stake for them both. They aren’t like Victor and Katsuki. They aren’t men at the end of their competitive careers, going out on a high, famous and beloved and celebrated, like Victor and Katsuki are. They are still young, the skating world doesn’t quite trust them yet, doesn’t know them, not the way it knows Victor. Victor has long been able to get away with things that no other figure skater could - he is an angel above reproach - and Katsuki Yuuri, as his protege, has become the sport’s darling. They can do things like a surprise pair skating routine at the Grand Prix Final. Otabek and Yuri are not Victor and Katsuki. They don’t pair skate.

Victor has tried to tease them both about it, to goad them in to trying it out at every competition, every visit they make to the cozy town of Hasetsu. Mostly though, Otabek admits, the goading is aimed at Yuri, rather than himself. Victor pokes at Yuri the way a fool pokes at a young tiger, never considering that the cub will grow and the claws will only get sharper. Or like an older brother needling a younger sibling without realising they will one day be outgrown and outmatched. Otabek knows. He’s seen the tiger that lives within Yuri’s heart. He has seen it grow with passion and strength over the last two years, just as he has seen Yuri himself grow, but he also knows that his beautiful, young, Ice Tiger walks a fine line, not only in his skating career, but in his life as well.

Victor chose to move to Japan when he made good on his promise to marry Katsuki, which made sense to Otabek. Russia wasn’t a kind place for queer people of any persuasion, even those of high profile. Victor may have been tolerated whilst a world class athlete, bringing glory to Russia, but his impending retirement and his marriage, had changed things. Leaving Russia had been a wise decision. It is a decision Yuri cannot make. He is still a child, only seventeen (seventeen years and nine months as Yuri told him recently), he is still vulnerable to so much and so many, and Otabek knows that there are reasons why he isn’t ready to leave Russia for good.

But that doesn’t mean things have been easy. The fall out from Yuri’s premier Grand Prix Final exhibition skate had been huge compared to what Victor and Katsuki had been met with - which had been pure adoration. Yuri had stunned the world, had single-handedly brought thousands of new fans to the sport, had created something new and exciting and dangerous. In certain quarters it had caused downright rage. According to his sponsors and the Russian Skating Federation Yuri Plisetsky was to show grace and decorum at all times. He was to maintain a certain propriety. He was not to wear costumes like ‘that’, or bare ‘that’ amount of flesh, or perform something as suggestive as ‘that’, with someone like ‘that’ - and here Yakov had pointed right at Otabek. With someone like ‘that’.

Otabek knows that it broke Yuri’s heart to hear that from his coach. Living with Yakov and Lilia whilst training for his senior debut had given Yuri something close to a normal home life - two parents, a warm home, security. Yuri had gushed about them their first night out together (before the rest of the skaters had crashed their date) because even if they yelled at each other constantly, and at him almost as much, it was still better than living with just Yakov in his tiny, stuffy, flat, eating only take-out; or with his mother in a bedsit without heating, eating only what the church could give them. The only other home environment Yuri spoke positively of were his earliest years with his Grandpa, though as far as Otabek has been able to gather, those years had been quiet, cold, and lonely, no matter how close Yuri and his grandfather have always been.

Yuri had been terrified, after Yakov’s dressing down, that he had finally pushed his luck too far, that the life he had worked for, his everything, was about to evaporate right in front of him.

Otabek still remembers the night of the exhibition skate like it’s a scene from a film he’s watched too many times. The way Yakov had grabbed Yuri and yanked him off in to a dimly lit office, pulling at him so hard Otabek had worried he’d take Yuri’s shoulder clean out of it’s socket. It had been a struggle to keep a hold of his friend’s hand but Otabek had been determined. He remembers how the door slammed, how Yakov had screamed, how Lilia had stayed silent, and how half a dozen nameless, faceless, skating reps had strutted in to spit such vile words at Yuri - a fifteen-year-old child. One had called his costume shameful, whorish; another had reminded him, darkly, that his career would be safe as long as he kept his personal life private and that he should remember that. They had little desire to fund either the Russian Punk or the Russian Fairy. They were interested only in champions and they wanted one without a silly nickname, one without any unwarranted airs and graces, and one without the scandals that came with ‘certain lifestyles’. They had suggested that it was time for Yuri to make a decision about his future, and his sponsors.

So, no, they don’t pair skate.

It still burns in Otabek’s throat, the rage, the bitterness that he feels toward those so-called adults. Yuri had been fifteen-years-old (fifteen and three quarters, as he had reminded Otabek the night before) and only in his first year in the senior division. No matter that he had been forced to grow up young in so many ways, Yuri had still been very much a child, and the adults who were supposed to have his best interests at heart had treated him like something filthy, something unclean.

Otabek had been forced to almost carry the poor boy back to the locker room, where Yuri had immediately shut himself in a shower stall and begun to sob. Otabek feels like his heart is still breaking when he thinks of it. He’d wanted to draw Yuri in to his arms and comfort him the way he deserved, because it was a physical pain to see eyes like Yuri’s - eyes that had seen far too much and faced it all alone. Instead he’d spent the next hour playing defense, convincing anyone who dared to enter the locker room that the showers were off limits. JJ had been easy enough to persuade - Otabek had told him that the drains were clogged and the smell would ruin the Canadian’s hair. The horror on his ex-rink mate’s face had been very satisfying and he often wishes he could have had his phone handy to take a photo. It would have cheered Yuri up immensely. Instead they’d both had to settle for Otabek’s recount of it later, when Yuri had emerged, eyes red raw, shaking, and looking so very small, and they’d taken the back way out of the stadium.

It had been months before Yuri had confided in him, in another locker room at another competition, that he was gay. That he might be gay. That it was possible that he maybe might be gay. He’d been terrified, and Otabek hated the idea of anything causing Yuri to feel that way. Otabek knew how hard it was to come out. He’d known he was gay for as long as he could remember, and while it was frowned on by many people in Kazakstan, it had been legal for almost as long as Otabek had been alive. Things were different in Russia. Yuri was frightened of what would happen, and what his grandfather, and his coaches, might say or do. It was the night of his sixteenth birthday and his performance of Agape had been overflowing with grief. It had earned him the kind of score that most skaters only dreamed of; Otabek knew that Yuri was living a nightmare.

Even though his skating continued to amaze and excite, the spark that had been Yuri Plisetsky had dimmed. The outrageous, leopard print clothing was missing along with the cat themed accessories, and his glorious hair had been cut short. Out on the practice rink that morning Otabek had noticed the oversized sweatshirt Yuri wore instead of his standard t-shirt. Even his costumes had changed slightly, though it was hard for Otabek to put his finger on how. Yakov’s expression was the same as always, like the side of a mountain to Otabek’s mind, but Lilia had looked perturbed and Otabek was actually relieved that there was one person in Yuri’s life who was concerned about what was happening.

When he saw the anxiety sitting within the sea green depths of Yuri’s eyes as he came out, the relief he’d felt suddenly seemed rather too far away. Coming out should have been about pride and joy, not fear or guilt or shame.Yuri wasn’t supposed to feel those things. So Otabek had spent the night telling him as many silly, happy, overtly gay, stories from his own life as he could think of, until he had Yuri giggling and holding his knees, wrapped in a nest of blankets in the centre of Otabek’s hotel bed.

Otabek had carefully not mentioned how adorable his friend looked, had carefully not mentioned that he’d been infatuated with his friend for six years. He had very very carefully not mentioned how he had fallen in love with his friend during the last few months. It was difficult, but he sincerely believed it had been worth it. Yuri had been too vulnerable then, to deal with those kinds of revelations. He’d been too overwhelmed by his own revelation and too young. Even if their age difference was only three years, to Otabek’s mind it was still too much. He was content to be the one and only ‘official’ friend of Yuri Plisetsky, figure skating world champion. He would be content to bask in the glow of Yuri’s brilliance - if only he could help to bring it back out from beneath the storm clouds. Yuri’s smile was worth it.

Of course, it hadn’t been easy. Yuri’s sixteenth birthday had been about the time when Victor had begun his teasing and needling, asking them both when they would try pairs ‘for real’; as if Otabek standing on the ice and pointing his finger whilst Yuri skated his routine was anything like pairs skating. Victor couldn’t seem to see that this was one joke that Yuri wouldn’t be able to brush off with his usual anger and vitriol. Yuri was skating a fine, fine line and Otabek could see the strain it was putting on him.

It wasn’t until Yuri collapsed in the locker room after his free skate - another gold winning performance - that Otabek realised just how bad things had gotten. Yuri hadn’t eaten, hadn’t been able to for fear of bringing it back up whilst on the ice, and he was a shaking, overwhelmed mess. Otabek had run his fingers through what was left of Yuri’s hair as he whispered reassurances, promises that things would get easier, that things would get better. Yuri had only sobbed in his arms. The following night he had performed his old routine to “Angel of the Fire Festival” and there had been no mention of “Welcome to the Madness” or risqué costumes or moves that might raise questions about anyone’s ‘lifestyle’.

They didn’t pair skate. They most definitely didn’t even think about pairs skating.

It took another three months of daily check-ins for the old Yuri to start to reappear. Otabek made a point of sending texts, silly gifs, photographs, anything he thought Yuri might like, anything that he thought might make the younger man smile. But along with that he began sending other things too. If he saw a rainbow flag - or rainbow anything - he’d take a photo and send it. He even took one or two selfies, which Yuri teased him about mercilessly, because apparently his selfie skills needed serious work. Otabek took it as a challenge. He upped his Instagram game.

He’d never felt the need to come out in any public way. He was a male figure skater who worked part time as a DJ at one of Almaty’s only gay bars. He felt sure that it should be obvious to anyone with eyes to see. And of course, he wasn’t really one for words. Yuri was the only person in his life who ever got much out of him.

For Yuri’s sake he’d started posting more, trying to subtly show the world that he was gay and wasn’t ashamed. It was harder than he’d anticipated. Not because he didn’t want the world to know, but because he wasn’t sure what to take photos of. Eventually he’d bought a pair of rainbow striped socks and had taken a picture of his feet, before he put on his skates. He’d worried it wasn’t obvious enough but it did the trick. A week later Yuri had sent him a photograph, privately, of his own feet, in his own, brand new, pair of rainbow socks. It had made Otabek smile. It had been a start.

When the season ended they had finally been free to meet up, and Yuri had insisted that they visit Japan. It had been beautiful and Otabek had since spent a good deal of his money on return trips, and seeing Yuri happy again, recovering himself and coming to terms with himself, had been beautiful to see too.

But then, one day in Hasetsu, at the Ice Castle, Otabek had caught Yuri gazing wistfully at Victor and Katsuki gliding side by side across the ice. It was such an open display of affection and love, and Otabek felt a spike of jealousy. They made it look so easy, and Otabek feared that his own face might betray his longing the way Yuri’s was showing his. But a moment later the spell was broken.

“Yurio!” Victor had waved, skating backwards, moving around Katsuki with his trademark grace. “Have you come for a pairs lesson? I’m sure Otabek will be able to lift you. You will look very beautiful, I guarantee it. Come join us!”

The yearning look had turned immediately to anger, Yuri’s whole face contorting as his cheeks erupted in flames, embarrassment and rage now obvious with his hair still too short to hide behind. He hadn’t responded in words. Instead he’d kicked the rink barrier with his signature violence before storming away, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He didn’t look at Otabek, and Otabek hadn’t followed straight way. He’d stared at the dent in the barrier’s chipboard, mind blank, eyes unfocused, until he heard the slam that indicated Yuri had reached the rink’s shower room. He wondered if Victor had any idea how much hurt he was causing. It was unlikely; Victor really wasn’t very observant when it came to the emotions and needs of others. His relationship with Yuuri had taught him a great deal, but he was still blind in many areas, Yuri being one of them.

But, Otabek realised, expecting Victor to step up and realise this was foolish. It wasn’t going to happen, and Yuri didn’t expect it either. Yuri didn’t expect anyone in his life to step up and actually put his needs first. He’d grown up fighting for everything and anything he wanted. It made Otabek sad, but he at least could show Yuri something different. He could show him that there were people in the world who would love him no matter what; who would love him because of who he was, and celebrate it wholeheartedly.

On the floor, in the corner of the empty, tiled, shower room, Yuri sat with his knees up, staring at nothing, his jagged, short, hair standing out around his head like he’d been pulling at it only moments before. It was growing fast but was still barely past his ears and Otabek knew Yuri regretted getting the hair cut. Taking a deep breath, Otabek crossed the room and sat down beside him, leaning his back against the wall and stretching his legs out, examining his running shoes and pointing and flexing his feet within them.

“I’m not...” he paused, wanting to get his words just right. Yuri happily cursed people out in Russian, English, Japanese, and even French, with equal fluency, and wasn’t often at a loss for words, but Otabek often felt the need to think over each one before it came out of his mouth. He came off as the strong, silent, type as a result, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. “I’m not averse to... skating with you. Together. On the ice. If that is something you’d like to do?”

Yuri looked up sharply, mouth hanging open almost comically wide. “Huh?”

Otabek just shrugged, lowered his eyebrows a little, worried now that he had misunderstood. “Well... I know it isn’t something we could do publicly. But... if you wanted to try it... for fun?”

“Huh?” was all Yuri gave him again.

Otabek felt his lips twitch upwards. “Fun. You know it? It’s this thing people do to bring them joy. To make them smile.”

It bothered Otabek that he didn’t know what Yuri did for fun beyond skating, spending time with his cat, yelling at his Nintendo Switch, and eating food his coaches told him not to eat. Maybe that was enough but it didn’t seem so. They were friends. It wasn’t a stretch to say they were best friends. Otabek liked that idea. But if they were best friends then it stood to reason that Otabek would know what Yuri liked doing, especially during the off season. It felt like he didn’t.

“I don’t want to pair skate, not really,” Yuri muttered. Otabek could actually hear the pout. “I just... I want what they’ve got! Okay? It’s stupid and I hate it but it’s not fair! They get everything! Everything! And nobody yells at them or withholds sponsorship money or calls them sluts! I’m not a fucking slut! I haven’t even kissed anyone while Katsudon’s out there with Victor’s tongue just permanently down his throat and nobody gives a shit! No! It’s not even not giving a shit! People love them for it! It’s not fair!”

Otabek nodded. He understood. There was a lot about their lives that wasn’t fair. Otabek’s parents wanted nothing to do with him. He’d had to prove his talent abroad before any of Kazakhstan’s coaches would even consider coaching him, knowing that he was gay. It was hard, made harder by his experiences in the USA and Canada, where there was such seemingly easy acceptance. Hasetsu was the same, the locals were relaxed, easy going, accepting. Otabek could understand how jarring it must be for Yuri, especially now that he had come to terms with his sexuality.

“It’s not fair,” he agreed softly. “Agreed. Want to go down to the beach and throw rocks at the waves?”

Yuri snorted, bumping against Otabek’s side and gracing him with a quick grin. “How dare you know me so well.” Otabek let out a huff, the closest he usually came to laughing, feeling a blossom of pride swell in his chest.

“I’ll race you there,” he said by way of answer. “And I’ll win. I’ll beat you by a full minute. Then you’ll have another reason to throw rocks.”

Yuri was up in an instant, heading for the door and grinning wickedly over his shoulder and after a moment of blinking and confusion Otabek was up too, chasing him out of the Ice Castle and down the hill, living for the sound of Yuri’s wild cackling and whooping as he bounced and ran his way down to the shore. Otabek could barely breathe for smiling, and Yuri beat him easily, grinning like a madman when he reached the water and realised he’d won. His hair was like spun gold in the afternoon sun and the colour of his eyes had matched the ocean so perfectly that for a second Otabek wished he really had more skill with the camera, in order to capture it.

That evening, after Yuri had eaten his way through a banquet’s worth of food, an act which never ceased to amaze Otabek, no matter how often he saw it, the topic of fun came back up, and this time Yuri had looked far more serious. It was an expression normally reserved for competitions, a look of focus and deep thought that their competitors had learned to fear. It usually meant that Yuri Plisetsky was about to wipe the ice with whoever dared to set their sights on one of his records or titles.

Seeing that look when they were sitting together in the Katsuki family’s dining room made Otabek uneasy but then those dazzling eyes met his and any worry he had felt just melted away. Yuri was fierce but Otabek knew that he had nothing to fear from his Ice Tiger. To prove it to himself he brushed a hand across Yuri’s cheek, flicking a grain of rice from where it had stuck itself just above the spot where a dimple appeared when Yuri smiled his sweetest smiles. He’d watched those green eyes widen, wondering if he’d misstepped, but Yuri’s only response had been a blush that ran all the way up to the roots of his hair.

“So...” Otabek mulled, tapping his chopsticks against his empty bowl. “Fun.”

Yuri grunted, sitting back and looking over the enormous meal he’d managed to devour, wriggling his slender toes in his rainbow socks. “Yah.”

“We’ve seen the ninja house,” Otabek stated gently. “We’ve thrown rocks. We’ve run laps of the whole town. We’ve visited Yuuko and the Ice Castle. I soaked in the hot springs even though...” he glanced at Yuri quizzically, “you didn’t join me.” The blush was back, redder than before. “What else would you like to do for fun during the off season?”

Yuri had sucked in a deep breath, looking at his toes as he flexed and pointed them. “D’you still dance at all, Beka?” he asked eventually, chewing on his lower lip as if he were the one thinking over the question. “I mean, I know you haven’t done ballet since, you know... Yakov’s camp.”

Here a tiny, satisfied, smile appeared on Yuri’s lips, and Otabek filed it away for further thought and examination. Yuri’d had no memory of Otabek from their initial childhood meeting but had admitted (via Skype, between fits of giggles and hiding his face in embarrassment) that he’d done some digging and had found old photos of them both looking ridiculously small, yet already in the awkward phase of what Yuri referred to as the ‘tween disaster’ years. Otabek had thought they looked sweet, all standing in a row in their practice blacks. Yuri had said they looked like dorks. Short-ass little dorks. Otabek gave his own answering smile.

“I enjoy dancing,” he acknowledged. “I haven’t done ballet since then but I took contemporary dance when I was training in Canada. Why?”

Yuri scowled, but there was no heat behind it and as soon as Otabek raised an eyebrow the put-out look dissipated, replaced with another tentative smile.

“I think it could be... fun, is all...”

Minako’s studio had proved to be the safe space that Yuri had needed, that they had both needed, and once they found a style and rhythm they both liked, fun was most definitely had. Otabek had always relied on being powerful and strong in his skating; he wasn’t graceful or a natural ballet dancer like Yuri, but together they made something wonderful and Otabek’s skating had even improved through their time in the dance studio. It wasn’t something they’d shared with many other people. Minako gave them use of her studio in Japan, Lilia did the same for them in Russia, an acquaintance of Otabek’s allowed them time in her stage space when they were both in Kazakhstan. It made life just the slightest bit more bearable as they walked, danced, and skated that fine, fine line.

One day, Otabek knows, they will be old enough to manage their own affairs without second guessing themselves or being second guessed by the ‘adults’ around them. One day their supremacy within the sport will be so undisputed that no one will dare to question their choices. But for now they make do. Otabek is no Katsuki Yuuri. Yuri is no Victor Nikiforov. They do not skate pairs. They don’t even try. Men don’t pair skate together after all. But they do dance. And they dance proudly. Sometimes in practice blacks. Sometimes in rainbow socks. And Otabek gets to experience the thrill of Yuri’s smile up close far more often than he otherwise might.

And that is good.

~

The art to go with the fic:

<https://littleredchucks.tumblr.com/post/632101267534184448/littleredchucks-i-wrote-a-fic-called-they>


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